Ramblings of a Pregnant Woman with Dead Babies...and other thoughts on pregnancy after loss

It's 3:30am.
We have maternity pictures in the morning, something I never got to do with the other babies.
I need to sleep, but I am still too anxious.
At 1:30am but was awaken by the lack of moment within my 34 week preggo belly.
It dawns on me I haven't felt any movement since the day before.
This is rare. I am usually awoken with kicks and rolls and stretches within.
I try not to panic and call my husband who is sleeping in the guest room (his turn) since he has been snoring so much it keeps me up at night.
He hesitantly comes to my bedside.
I am glad for his hesitancy. It means I am just over-reacting...again.
He places a hand on my belly.
"I feel a kick," he says tiredly.
I don't.
Get the Doppler from the top drawer of the baby room, I say.
He is getting more grouchy.
If the baby is dead, I will blame this on his lack of attention.
If the baby is alive, I will be thankful for his lack of acting alarmed.
I start to wonder off to when I knew something was wrong with Amelie's leg and he didn't think anything was wrong. He was mad I went to the doctor.
She had two broken leg bones.
I should have trusted my mommy gut then.
Was I ignoring it now?
I am so tired I want to go to sleep. Surely, I wouldn't be this sleepy if my mommy radar was alarming.
We both struggle to find a heartbeat over 80BPM for a long time.
Dustin changes the frequency. 153, 158, 164, 157. Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub.
I breathe for the first time in over an hour.
Wait, what if it is just okay for the minute. We can't tell accels and decels on a home Doppler.
The baby does a big flip within me.
I try to relax.
I look into my husband eyes and ask do you think he is okay?
This will make it his fault this time if he is isn't. I can't handle the guilt of a fourth baby dying within me.
He blankly states, "I think so."
He seems honest. It's not much but it will have to do.
Goodnight.
"Goodnight. Want me to stay with you?"
No, I need to sleep, I state through the tears.
He hugs me and goes back downstairs.
But I don't sleep. I lay there and wonder.
Time for another blood sugar.
It's a little low.
Maybe that's why he won't move much.
I drink some juice.
Another 1/2 hour ticks by.
He likes the juice and kicks and kicks within like a little Thumper kicking his hind bunny legs.
I am grateful. But I still can't sleep.

When I miscarried the twins, each week my hope and faith grew. Then at full term when all my faith had returned, bam there were those horrible words again, "There is no heartbeat."
It happened quickly. We were told it could happen quickly again.

Each week gets harder and harder. Each day feels as if I am walking further into a fire within my own house, but I must go because my child is within it's suffocating walls. It's my job to save him.

I tell my living children all the time that courage is not the absence of fear, but acknowledging the fear and still doing the task at hand anyway.
My kids have inspired me day after day with their courage.
I need to inspire them, but really what I WANT to do is hide under my blankets and cry until he is born dead or alive.

I read a blog a few days ago that said being a mom is a choice, so basically stop calling it a job or anything else and go about your business.
I agreed with this sentiment in the beginning, but I have changed a bit of my thinking as I lay here now almost 4am.

We like to think we choose and decide all the outcomes of our lives. We decided when we will get married and to whom and how many child we will or won't have. This simply isn't the case. Just ask the woman who has been trying to conceive for years, despite her best efforts.
We use words like we "lost a baby" as if it was game we didn't win but better luck next time. As if the outcome of these children's lives are in our hands. Ask the woman who did everything perfectly during her pregnancy and still has a dead baby with no answers as to the why.
Sure we can use contraception to try to plan our futures, but this is not a guarantee. Ask the mom who finds herself pregnant after a tubal ligation.

The fact is that EACH birth whether planned or not, whether wanted or not IS A GIFT, an enormous miracle of a gift that only happens when a thousand factors align.
We don't have control of whether we win or lose. Not ultimately. This is scary. But this is what ultimately will help me fall asleep.

God is holding my son in his arms as he nestles me to rest. He is has the first, middle and final say on what is and isn't to be. This isn't to say I can't or shouldn't do my part in being a responsible mom and human being, but for now it means I don't have to worry if about whether or not we will meet this baby on this side of eternity.